Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned
by The Ninja Who Wanted To Be A Samurai
Summary: Things left unsaid haunt Nicholas D. Wolfwood. Vash/Wolfwood. One-shot.


A/N: This idea just sprang up at me, and I had to make it concrete. Now don't get me wrong – I love Milly/Wolfwood. It pains me to paint Wolfwood in this light, but honestly I love Wolfwood/Vash just as much if not more. Agh! Torn! Well anywho, enjoy!

_**SPOILER ALERT**_**: This story contains **_**SPOILERS**_** from Trigun. If you have not watched up to Episode 23 yet, this will RUIN the series for you. Don't do it, man!**

Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun or its characters.

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_- Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned_ -

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I couldn't face him. Not after what I had done.

That look.

For the love of God, don't look at me like that. I… can't take it when you look at me like that. With bright, sea-green eyes. With tears welled up to the spilling point.

I wanted to reach out and strike him for looking at me like that. With such deep remorse and such hatred.

No, not hatred. He wasn't capable of that. More like… disappointment. That's it. He was _disappointed_ in me.

Oh God…how I wish he hated me instead. His hatred would hurt me less than knowing that he had expected more of me, had trusted me, and that I had let him down.

I said I wanted to reach out and strike him, so I did. I could feel the shame, the agony rising up in my chest, like it would explode out of me at any moment. It felt like a feral animal was clawing at my insides, tearing at me from somewhere deep inside. The wild animal and I weren't so different. In fact, we were probably just the same.

I had killed. Again. In front of him. _For_ him! Christ! How could I have gone so wrong? With everything he had told me, all of the times I had watched him crying over spilled blood… how could I not have seen? How could I have acted so blindly? I betrayed him.

Heavenly Father, forgive me. Vash, _forgive_ me.

I crept away from that place like a dog with my tail between my legs, surely wounded. I couldn't even go near him. So I sat in this dark room, by myself. Thinking, praying, confessing to the ghosts in the room.

She comes. She offers me sandwiches. She is good to me. Damn it, why can I only _hurt_ people? Why am I this _egotistical asshole_?

I begin to weep. Hard.

I shield my face from her view. I am thinking of all of the times I had scolded him, called him a child, and condescended to him for believing there was some other way. I thought _he_ was the one in denial. I was running from my blood-stained past all along. I didn't see what he did in people, so he must be the fool. Damn it…

She holds me close to her; I can feel her warm breath on my cool tears. She breathes deeply, calming me.

"It's okay," she whispers. I wonder if she believes that. I wonder what she really thinks of me. I don't care in this moment, I want all of her now. I want her purity, her innocence; I want what she represents to me. I wonder if she still loves me after what I did. I wonder if Vash could ever love me after what I did.

I smother myself in her embrace. I am selfish; I drink in her warmth and use it for myself. I clutch her long yellow coat, drawing her close to me. My grip is firm and desperate, and I need her.

My coffee spills. The sandwiches are forgotten. I feel safe in her arms, like a child. She overlooks my sins because she loves me. This makes my gut twist with guilt and hope all at once.

I take her to bed. I am rough, while she remains chaste. I can feel a steady fire within her; it resonates through me whenever our lips meet. I am hungry for this fire. She is a symbol of what I cannot have; she represents another to me. She is pure and good, while I rot with corruption and sin.

She clings to me, and she wraps her legs around my back tightly. She knows why I am doing this, but she is in denial. We both are. She is crying silently, and she throws her head back in hollow ecstasy. I look at the base of her neck, where the warm skin meets her collarbones. God, is there no one safe from my selfish evil? Damn me!

I stand over the bed with a cigarette in my mouth; my jacket and shirt have been lost in our hasty struggle. I breathe deeply, letting the nicotine calm my nerves and fog my thoughts.

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I have stolen her heart, and it is not rightly mine. I am no priest. I am no saint. I'm just a sinner.

I go to her in the early hours of morning. I know he is coming for me. She is sleeping lightly, light enough to be woken by my lips at her ear.

"Promise me you'll stay here, Milly."

She says nothing, but a silent tear falls and pools at the bridge of her nose before rounding her nostrils and soaking in to the pillow. It is not alone.

"What are you going to do, Mr. Priest?" she whispers, her voice quivering.

"What I should have done a long time ago. Please, no matter what happens, promise me that you'll stay here."

She nods slowly, then reaches up and embraces me. It is desperate and needy. I need her as well. I wrap my arms around her gently as I stare out the window at the dawn.

"I have to go." I say softly.

She lies back in the bed and turns away from me. I grab my cross which is leaning against the closed door and sling it over my back.

"I'm sorry Milly, for everything." I do not ask her forgiveness. I do not deserve it.

Suddenly I am facing him; the day was a blur in my mind. He was all I could think about.

"I shouldn't have hit you the other day. I'm sorry." I begin, feeling weak standing in front of him.

"It's alright." He says calmly. I hate how he can do that, just forgive others so effortlessly.

"Maybe there was a way out of that problem." He says quietly, in that certain way. His tone is that of a teacher, of someone who is wizened by experience. Damn it, his eyes… it's like they can see right through me!

"Maybe what we should have done would've been something like-"

Suddenly I am angry. I'm furious with him for no rightful reason. His patronizing tone has pushed me to the edge. I want to make one final stand, one last time that I can believe that I am right and he is wrong. I draw my weapon, yelling at him.

"Our lives are too different Vash. You and I were destined to come to this! It's part of who I am." I'm breathing heavily, scared by what I just said. It makes no sense, and yet I believe it in my heart.

"A long time ago we started a quick draw tournament – we're going to settle it now. Once and for all!" I say to him, waiting to see what he will do.

"Why at this time?" he yells back.

"If I tell you, will you agree to die?" I am counting on bravado and blind strength to guide me through this meeting, quite possibly the last time I will ever have to talk to him. It feels all wrong to me. This isn't what I wanted to say to Vash the Stampede.

He nods silently. I raise my weapon once more. "Draw… Draw!"

"Okay. I'll do that for you, but in return will you do something for me?" he asks quietly, looking at me from behind those yellow glasses.

"Yeah, what?" I answer back, trying to keep calm.

"When this is all over, and I'm dead, will you agree to never shoot anyone again?"

I'm taken aback. This simple request hits me deep. I can feel the shame and self-hatred rise up in me. I am under his scrutiny, but only I feel this way. He's so damn forgiving. I have to challenge him, to protect myself.

"You actually expect me to become a living target like you are?"

He offers no answer.

"Alright. So how do you plan to get out of this predicament, huh?"

"I dunno." He answers with a hint of dread in his voice. Does he really think I would make him fight me…? That I wouldn't pull my shot? That he wouldn't pull his too?

"Then answer me one thing. You're obviously going after Knives, what do you intend to do once you find him?" I want to test him. I want him to succeed. Part of me wants him to be evil like me. Anything to bring him closer to me.

"Many years ago he stole someone that was very important to me." Vash replies with a cold undertone. Perhaps he is capable of harming someone after all...

"So you want revenge?" I ask, searching his features for an answer.

"I don't know. I _really_ don't know." He sounds sad, hopeless. He is torn.

"I see. So that's how you live. That's how you _choose_ to live." I say coldly. I am unsatisfied with his answer. Once again, I realize that I selfishly want him to be evil like me. I want to be worthy of him.

He doesn't respond, once again.

"You know what? You're an expert at pissing me off. That's amazing." I say with a smirk. It's true; he knows how to push me in every way possible. It's exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

"Hey Wolfwood-"

He is interrupted by sudden gunfire. I block the shot, barely. We scatter.

"Take cover!" I yell, knowing exactly who is firing at us. I've ran out of time. Damn it all, why couldn't they have let him finish? He was going to tell me something important. Why couldn't I have more time?

We run into a bar; he asks who's shooting at us. I ask him what his real name is.

"No way. I'm not going to tell you just so you can go out and get killed today." He says seriously.

"Nah, don't be stupid. Tell me." I ask him over my shoulder, trying to seem casual as always. But I'm dying to establish some sort of permanent, binding connection to him.

"Between you and me, my name's irrelevant." He finishes with a smile. Not just any one of his hollow smiles either. No, this was a genuine one, just for me. My heart soars.

He runs out of the bar. I want so badly to stop him. To tell him how I feel. To tell him how I've _always_ felt. Damn my cowardice. I know now that I should have stopped him.

"Vash!" I yell, even though I know he can't possibly hear me. He is gone. Probably forever.

I clash with Chapel. We best one another, which seems right. Mentor and student. Still, I thought that I would have at least gotten to see Vash through 'til the end. Then I could saunter off into the desert, playing my part to perfection, waiting for him to stop me like every time before then.

But he never does stop me. I guess I knew something like this would happen today. Just one of those feelings.

I walk up to him after it's over, happy that I get to see him before the end. I am barely able to carry this massive cross anymore. My sins have never felt so heavy.

His head is down. I ask him what's wrong because I don't know what else to say and I want to help him.

"I _failed_. I failed to save someone again." He says quietly.

"Man is born a mortal being and we all make mistakes. It's part of the game. Just be more careful next time." I say, trying to be comforting and also distant. How badly I wanted to reach out and touch his face…

"It's hard for me to accept making mistakes like this." He said, unaware of anything but his mistakes. I can sense the weight on his shoulders, and I add it to mine. I consider it for a moment; this burden is overwhelming. How pure is he, really? How pure can someone be?

"Then you can choose to suffer. That's also a part of mortal life." I respond, feeling the pain radiating through my body. The time is drawing near.

"Oh yeah. Mortal…" he said with a painful tone to his voice. Why did he long to be broken and corrupt like us? Like me?

It's time to go. You have nothing more to offer him, I tell myself. Leave him with his mission to kill Knives. He doesn't need to know you love him Wolfwood. Do someone a favor, for once.

"By the way, Knives is in Demitri." I say simply, hating myself more than ever for betraying him. I still found myself wondering if there was another way, some other, better path I could have taken. There is always a way to the future. That's what he taught me.

He is taken aback.

"What did you say?" he asks quietly, afraid of the answer. I can feel his pain as he realizes what must have happened. It kills me; it is overwhelming pain. I can't tell where the pain from the bullet holes ends and where my heartache begins. I begin to walk away, towards the church. I can hear the disbelief and anger in his voice as he speaks.

"I never told you anything about Knives, how did you know that?"

I am just around the corner. I am crying quietly, both tears and blood seeping from me. Why couldn't I tell him? Must I die with this horrible burden on my chest as well?

When I try to speak at first, I choke on blood. It runs from my lips to my chin, staining my white shirt. I try again, managing only a whisper. I hope it reaches him.

"I…" I choke again, feeling the fear and pain well up in my throat. I spit onto the bleached white sand, staining it red. I breathe in shallowly and try again.

"I love you." I gasp out. Damn it, Vash!

God only knows if he heard me. I drag myself to the church to repent.

It's been a while since my last confession.


End file.
